


Dancing With A Spaceman

by Rixxy8173571m3W1p3



Series: The Fluffy Adventures With Your Boyfriend Doofus Rick [6]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Costumes, Dancing, Dancing and Singing, Established Relationship, F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Scrabble, Self-Esteem Issues, Singing, Tea, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-21 21:27:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13152387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rixxy8173571m3W1p3/pseuds/Rixxy8173571m3W1p3
Summary: In this fic, the reader is invited to a 50s themed dance





	1. Nothing A Cup Of Tea Couldn't Fix

Something was wrong. You couldn't place your finger on it, but there was something he wasn't saying. Today you two had chosen to play Scrabble, and already you were in the lead. It didn't seem to matter to Rick who was winning since Zeta-7 enjoyed most things he set to do. Though at times, he had the tendency to play games quietly, leaving you with this weird need to fill the gaps of silence with music or questions. 

However, this time he was all questions. “D-d-did you - did you see that video with skydiving cats?”

He had already asked this twice. 

“Yeah, you sent me the link last week.”

“Oh, of - of course.”

Question after question, you'd answer and he followed with a nervous laugh, and there would be the painfully awkward silence. Yet, after a while you decided to get to the point. “Is something wrong?”

“I ugh…..it's nothing.” he sighed. 

Oh Rick, you didn't like it when he tried to deflect. You knew he thought it was better to repress then bother you with his problems, but you wished he didn't. If only you could see the inner corners of his mind, see what you'd find there. Would you find a sad child, or a grown man running, running from yesterday's monsters, which made him afraid to reach out? Perhaps in time you'd know.

You could do nothing, but wait for him to tell you, but this made the game stretch on, and the agonizing silence made you uncomfortable. You wished he could just tell you already. He wrung his hands, avoided your questioning gaze, and soon enough you realized that he had stopped playing all together. Since Zeta-7 wasn't having fun, you decided that play time was over, and you started to pick up the pieces. “Wha-what are you doing?” he panicked.

“I can see you don't want to play anymore, so I'm putting it away.”

You couldn't ignore him, and you weren't going to pretend that ignorance would solve the problem. He stood. “I-I-I….could you wait for me in the kitchen?”

“Sure, okay.”

* * *

You laid your head on the kitchen table, allowing its cool service to permeate your cheek. You could still smell hints of coffee and warm pancakes dripping with syrup. You felt the transition of moods from place to place, and here there was always something a little wistful and melancholic, like whispers kissing daydreams hello and goodbye. And right now, they were both equally confusing.

Oh, if only dad were still around, and you could ask him what you should do. You with your limited experience of men and the world, you didn't know what they wanted, especially one as peculiar as Zeta-7. His emotional issues, they were deep rooted, had been there for such a long time, and you worried constantly if what you were doing was the right thing. Then again, he dealt with your issues, so why couldn't you deal with his?

You waited, and when you heard his light footsteps, you sat up properly, gauging his movements as he set your favorite mug before you, and served you an aromatic brew. “It's - I made this t-tea blend with herbs from my garden. It's a-a little different every time. So, I-I-I-I can't - I can't guarantee the taste.”

It was good as usual, and you didn't refrain your contented sigh as you drank wholeheartedly, leaving you refreshed. Not long ago, you had learned that Rick did this when he was stressed or nervous, and you wondered what had occurred to cause it this time. You knew his job with the Council was one of the reasons he'd call you at random times to hear your voice, or the reason he'd portal into your office for a quick hug before he'd return to his hellish job. And all you wanted when he was with you, was for him to be happy and relaxed.

“Rick,” you started. “is somet-”

“Would y-y-you go to the dance with me?” Zeta-7 interrupted.

A dance? Was this his way of asking you out on a date?

“What?”

“Um, a-a-a d-d-dance? There's going to be a dance party in town and I-I thought…. if y-you don't want to go I,” he frowned. “I’ll understand.”

His defeated sighs hurt you. Did he believe you would tell him no? 

Rick managed to raise his head after a few minutes. Lips bitten, hands wrung, his fixed, contemplative stare searched, begged, pleaded for an answer. Lost, words seemed to escape you, and you flinched at the touch of his shaky hand. “Okay.” You nodded. 

Relief washed over his features. Back straightened, he brushed his thumb over the back of your palm, in calm, gentle circles. So, you two were going to try something different.Your usual activities together weren't that different from the ones you two used to do when you were just friends, and you didn't mind it, this thing you two had going. Perhaps he had sensed your impatient wishes. 

Yet, a chance to have a few romantic moments wasn't something you were about to pass up either. When he added that it was a themed dance party, you tilted your head. Didn't they only do that in the movies? Apparently not, but this information didn't encourage you. It's not that you couldn't dance, but well, it had been a while.

A memory, one you had forgotten returned like it were only yesterday. You remembered that time you danced at your aunt's wedding reception, when you were but a girl of sixteen, still too foolish to care if your best friends brother danced like a mannequin. Dancing wasn't the worst thing you could do

“Yeah, I'll go, but I want you to go shopping with me. Okay?” 

“Oh hoho, of - of course. I-I-I know this great place we can go to.”

His winning smile couldn't save him from losing Scrabble later on, but it did win him a Hershey's kiss, and enough compliments to make him squirm.

* * *

You didn't know his hair could bend that way. Was it defying gravity? Was there such thing as anti-gravity hairspray? Giving it a gentle poke, you giggled, it was his hair. And from behind his ear, he took out a comb and touched it up.

You might have set a record for the amount of photos you had taken of him, but this was going to be the best one yet. Seeing him dressed this way reminded you of when kids dressed up as what they wanted to be on career day. Your little cinnamon roll playing this rebel, Danny Zuko type made you squeal. “Hmm, you really…”

Zeta-7 was embarrassed by the way you stared, “I know, it ugh - it can't be helped.”

Zeta-7 looked so much like Greaser Rick, well minus the eyes and the smile. Perhaps hair grease could cover a multitude of sins, or create a few. Your outfit, a classic poodle skirt with matching sweater almost made you rethink your life choices, but you were like life be damned, cause you weren't about to disappoint Rick.When he showed up at your door earlier, you gasped at the transformation. Sure, his teeth gave it away, but the way he dragged out his candy cigarette almost gave you the impression that you were with someone else.

Though, he soon lost his composure and became the ball of nerves you were sitting right next to. If you told him that he was adorable, would that insult him? Nah, you'd probably do it anyway, but what if he thought you'd preferred him this way? You didn't know what to say, so you kept quiet.

You examined your nails, and touched up your lipstick; you wanted to compliment Rick, and look put together. And when you looked up, you saw him turn away, a bit sheepish. Oh yeah, you had his attention, that in itself was encouraging. You thought of saying something daring, something that would encourage him to be more confident, but before you could figure it out, he landed.

When you stepped out, you were hit with a wave of familiarity. 

Harry Herpson High School was a place you had hoped you'd never have to return to; this place had killed many of your former dreams. Oh, you thought you had let old grudges go, said goodbye to the former unpleasantness, but seeing the place made you doubt yourself. And there in the parking lot, you stood still, and took a few deep breaths before proceeding. Those hallways held the shadows of your humiliation, of the painful days when you didn't have a genuine friend who would have the backbone to stick up for you; or the crime your supposed best friend did, when he crushed your heart by telling you how he liked your classmate.

You didn't really hate the place, but the people that had gone there. Yet, you weren't that hopeless girl who had her nose hidden in a good book anymore, you were a girl who proved to be a good, and loyal friend. This place, which had scorned you for being yourself, was just another chapter of your life you had to finish. Now, more than ever you were determined to show them all. You stood a little straighter, knowing you would prove greater than those hallways remembered.

Zeta-7 scratched the back of his neck. “Are y-y-you okay?”

Taking his hand in yours, you gave it a firm squeeze. “Yes, I am.”

Oh, you were ready.


	2. Life Could Be A Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are differences between life and what we dream it could be

The school gym was smaller then you remembered. Then again, could you rely on your suppressed memories? Perhaps not, but there were many things you found never do change. Like the groups of ladies who stood to the side, murmuring about the lengths and appropriateness of one's skirts. What, were they expecting to travel back in time with their updos and backwards attitudes?

You nodded at them, but they ignored you. Well, you thought, if they were going to be uptight, then you might as well ignore them back. Of course, you couldn't help but stick out your tongue at them when they weren't looking. Most of the folks in attendance were around Ricks age, dressed to impress, and ready to dance. And how could they not?

It was while you two were walking about that you spotted an extraordinarily enthusiastic couple, dancing like they might have half a lifetime ago, when they were but young fools in love. There were other couples, hand in hand, assisting one another since they couldn't move like they used to. You imagine a great deal of them had been together so long, that they knew of nothing else but each other. Perhaps that was the beauty of a relationship, cultivating the potential, coexistence, floating about in each other's space, sharing almost everything. Yet, what did you know, you were still too young and foolish.

Still, you hoped you could come to understand it one day.

* * *

A little ways from the crowd, you two leaned against the wall. Ricks eyes roved about, taking in the world around him. There was no telling when he would return, when he finished with his quiet observations, but there was no mistaking his curiosity. You'd say it made him happy, to be distracted, to discover something, to make it his secret, something only he knew. You'd hate to interrupt his process, so you let him be.

Your simple observations concluded that this event was possibly a way for the school to fund the principals underhanded schemes, but then that in itself would be granting him too much credit. Tacky decorations lined the tables and walls, a great number of wigs hung on for dear life upon the heads of the hair challenged men. Silver foxes dressed in their Sunday best, lovely dressed ladies were eager for a dance and it made you slightly lonesome. Without much thought, you looked up at Rick and wished you were out there dancing too.

* * *

You didn't realize you had been staring. It only seemed natural to look at what you liked, and the darling man Zeta-7 was, smiled down at you nonchalantly. “What are you thinking about?”

“Oh,” damn it, he caught you. “I was thinking that life could be a dream amongst other things.”

“Y-you think so?” came his soft, modulated voice.

“Maybe, at least that's how that one song goes.”

Quiet intelligence hid in his brow. “Fascinating. I-I think life is whatever we make of it. It could - there is so much w-we don't know, could know, but don't. In this world, our perception of right and wrong, darkness and light are limited to what we see and experience. If life were a-a dream, we would - we'd have better control of our lives.”

“What if you don't see or experience much? What then?”

“Truth is, w-we do our best, and that's…..I'm sorry, I-I-I'm rambling again.”

“No you're not.”

“Gosh, I-I-I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry. We're having a conversation, and it's lovely that you're sharing your thoughts.  Sharing is caring right? Since you're sharing, it means you care, and I care about what you're saying. We don't have to talk about this right now if you don't want to Rick. You can elaborate later. Okay?”

“Oh, I ugh - o-o-okay ”

Sometimes, you didn't feel smart enough to keep up with him. There were days when simple questions lead into a deep conversations, ones which you could only answer to the best of your ability. It couldn't be helped, and there was no one to blame. In your short life, you had been sheltered, and only experienced enough to get by. Then again, when did you begin to care whether or not you were smart enough? Well, after you met Rick.

Under the series of events which led up to your relationship, you found that a lot of times, all he needed was a friend. And whenever an opportunity showed itself, he took it and ran away with it. Never on purpose, but just unconsciously, more so when given the freedom. He'd ramble, explain, veer off the subject, or let it drop all together. Like any elderly person, he was a storehouse of information, and when he had no one to share it with, he felt alone.

No one should ever have to feel that way.

You'd try the remedy the situation, share your thoughts, carry out discussions, or listen, because at the end of the day, he was a lonely genius, without a family, with only you and a few life forms he could almost call friends. You squeezed his hand, to remind him you were there, and not a character in his head. When encouraged, he could almost move mountains with that brilliant smile, and your heart would skip a beat because you had a part in putting it there. Life could be a dream, but it was whatever you made of it. With Rick, your life was made a little better.

With encouragement, what could he not do?

Lightly you tugged on his hand. “Come on Rick, let's walk around.”

Being the sweetheart he was, he would acquiesce, even if slightly hesitant. Crowds weren't exactly his cup of tea, neither was it yours, but you couldn't wait to show Rick off as the jewel he was. All his hard work, to shape his hair, put himself together, merely asking you to come, it would not go to waste. You wanted others to see how great he was, to know that this simple man was a multifaceted creature, crafted by circumstance. And most of all, to chase away that insecurity.

* * *

It didn't help when you two received funny looks from others. You'd ignore them of course, because it only brought home the point that you didn't care. Zeta-7 made you happy, and out of all the bad decisions you've made in your life, he was a good one. The trouble was how affected you were by him. Just watching him made you giddy.

Being there, listening to classic tunes, and that goofy smile of his; was there anything greater?

Blame it on hormones, your body chemistry, or your affection, but it excited you. Then, as you processed all those happy feelings, they found a way to carry you about, giving you a hop in your step that was hard to miss. Without trying, you were wooing a crowd, causing Rick to sink further into himself again. Damn, you weren't a manic pixie dream girl, you were just a girl who loved to dream.

Oh, there was something about a costume that made you bold.

Perhaps it was the fact that you looked different, or how the cut of the skirt was flattering to your figure, but you stood straighter, smiled brighter, and felt like the belle of the ball. Most of the time, you looked average, and that you had come to accept. Still, as flattering as it was to feel like the pretty one, you attributed it to the fact that you were one of the youngest in attendance.

After a while, you had to admit, that perhaps you were getting too much attention, and it made Zeta-7 more anxious by the minute. You could tell he would rather stand off to the side then attract attention to himself. No, he had come to have a good time, this was not how it was supposed to be. The grip on your hand over time loosened until he let it go. Like usual, he was trying to isolate himself, believing that he wasn't good enough.


End file.
